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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27593788">Remembering</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miri1984/pseuds/Miri1984'>Miri1984</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Wilde Week 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A Wilde Week 2020 (Rusty Quill Gaming), Death, Discussion of Death, Gen, grief and mourning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:54:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>729</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27593788</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miri1984/pseuds/Miri1984</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The letter arrives when Oscar is alone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Grizzop drik Acht Amsterdam &amp; Oscar Wilde, Oscar Wilde and the LOLOMG, Sasha Racket &amp; Oscar Wilde</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Wilde Week 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>A Wilde Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Remembering</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s less than a day since they left for Shoin’s institute when the letter arrives. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deliveries to the inn are treated with suspicion at the best of times, these days any kind of communication with the mainland is rare, and nearly always through magical means, not mundane. That the courier who turns up in the taproom late on the first evening sends Ryu into a bit of a panic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t speak Japanese, and Barnes and Carter are setting up for the escape route, and so Ryu comes to Oscar’s reading room, wringing his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want him in the cell?” Ryu asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he’s just here to deliver a package, that won’t be necessary,” Oscar says, setting aside his tea and following Ryu back downstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve been gone seven hours, thereabouts, although he tries not to count, tries not to think of all the ways they could be dead already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The courier is wet and bedraggled but well equipped with a drycase for documents and good, well cared for leathers. He looks, in short, professional, and nods when he sees Oscar, reaching into the case for a sealed tube. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oscar recognises the seal, knows the magic used to close it, and sucks in a breath. Curie only uses these for the most important communications, the ones that can’t afford to fall into anyone else’s hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He jerks his head, indicating the man follow him outside, one hand on his dagger. It’s unfortunate, that Zolf isn’t here, even Barnes or Carter at a pinch. He can’t trust Ryu with this, it isn’t in the contract, really, for him to be involved at that level, and he may be more ruthless than he used to be but even he will draw the line at having to murder a courier in the taproom of the inn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Protocol, Mr Wilde,” the courier says, and Wilde nods, taking out his dagger and slicing into his thumb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smallest drop of blood is all that’s required, and he reaches out, dagger still held loosely should the courier prove to be false.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He isn’t. Oscar presses his thumb to the depression on the casing and there is a sharp click. The courier nods, and hands it over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Won’t say it was a pleasure getting here,” he says, and Oscar shrugs. It’s not his job to make small talk, and the man isn’t going into quarantine, so the less interaction they have the better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ryu will find you a room for the night,” he says, and the courier nods. “You need to be gone by the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a threat, under those words, and the courier does not fail to hear it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oscar turns on his heel, taking the canister upstairs to read.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It cannot be good news. He takes a breath, sitting at his desk, wondering what could have happened. Curie fallen? Another dragon discovered infected? The Cairo headquarters destroyed?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s none of those things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a letter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A letter from ancient Rome.</span>
</p><p>#</p><p>
  <span>That night and the next day passes in something like a dream. He doesn’t get any work done, or at least if he does he has no memory of it. His mind is completely taken with memories of her, of </span>
  <em>
    <span>them. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Gods. He catches himself walking down to the baths and it hits him how devastated Zolf is going to be, how sad and small Hamid will look. He can picture Azu’s gentle, sad eyes and he it’s all he can do not to weep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps he should. Perhaps he should take this time to mourn, by himself, for everyone he’s lost, because he’s sent his team to Shoin and he isn’t even sure they’ll make it back alive. Better to assume all is lost now, the way when they return and he puts them into quarantine and he pretends that they are already dead it won't <em>hurt so much</em>.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gods. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They’ll have to go to quarantine and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>tell them before they are cleared and Oscar is going to have to carry these memories, this knowledge with him for an entire week by himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He comes to himself, both palms flat on the wall, his forehead resting against its smooth coolness. The letter is locked in the bottom drawer of his desk. He should forget about it. Focus on his work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But some memories are simply too strong.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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